Please, and at night the doors of your face are locked, and during the day you will never know, you will never know how much I traveled because of you, roads in the palm of my hand roads in the palm of your hand, every time the plane or something touches the sky I hear a trip, wait for me, a person is always separated from someone, I remember You cried, it's strange but there's something in me that doesn't recognize it, and some days you'll be written about dreams, and some days you'll never know, the thoughtful time hangs on the clock, the hand of a clock for everything, sets the clock to a rhythm, every time a woman touches the road, I remember you and feel how you were in me, you are sleeping, surely someone is breathing you deeply, my hands are not the hands of that man, my jealous hands, and at night you will not see in the dark no, and during the day you will never know, quietly like a thief on the toes of your body in the insomnia in the thoughts of sins, I am always Suspicious of something, a policeman is talking to me, should I tell him that I'm alone, and once everything is simpler, even the word I'll tell you something that wasn't important, but sounds wonderful,
אף פעם לא תדעי על דלתות נעולות .האם של פניך או של הלב?
שיר מגניב עם מסר .שאפו.
שיר מקסים של שלמה ארצי מתוך אלבומו האהוב עליי ביותר, "דרכים" (משנת 1979).
תודה רבה על העלאת הקליפ ליוטיוב 🙏
גדול...השירים הישנים שלו הכי טובים.
אחד מהיפים ביותר של שלמה.אין ספק.
שיר יהלום
שיר ענקקקק
הכי דומה כאן לבן בן
SHABBAT SHALOM
Please,
and at night the doors of your face are locked, and during the day you will never know, you will never know how much I traveled because of you, roads in the palm of my hand roads in the palm of your hand, every time the plane or something touches the sky I hear a trip, wait for me, a person is always separated from someone, I remember You cried, it's strange but there's something in me that doesn't recognize it, and some days you'll be written about dreams, and some days you'll never know, the thoughtful time hangs on the clock, the hand of a clock for everything, sets the clock to a rhythm, every time a woman touches the road, I remember you and feel how you were in me, you are sleeping, surely someone is breathing you deeply, my hands are not the hands of that man, my jealous hands, and at night you will not see in the dark no, and during the day you will never know, quietly like a thief on the toes of your body in the insomnia in the thoughts of sins, I am always Suspicious of something, a policeman is talking to me, should I tell him that I'm alone, and once everything is simpler, even the word I'll tell you something that wasn't important, but sounds wonderful,